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Three Short Stories of O.V Vijayan - Translated by Janakianun
Three Short Stories of O.V Vijayan - Translated by Janakianun
Three Short Stories of O.V Vijayan - Translated by Janakianun
PROJECT
Submitted to
Sree Sankaracharya
Master of Arts
in
By
Soumya Murukesh
Reg. No:5189
DEPARTMENT OF
COMPARATIVE LITERATURE
KALADY
MAY 2007
SREE SANKARACHARYA UNIVERSITY OF SANSKRIT
Kalady post,Ernakulam(dist)
Kerala-683574
Fax:04842463480
Tel: 0484
email:sureg@sancharnet.in
Department of
Comparative Literature
……………………………………………………………………………………
CERTIFICATE
guidance as an integral part of the 4th semester M.A Programme. And also
certified that it was not previously submitted for the award of any such academic
titles.
I here by declare that the project THREE GOLDEN DROPS OF OV VIJAYAN is the
original record of the Core Course done by me under the guidance of C.P Sivadasan, as
part of the MA programme. I also declare that it was not previously submitted for the
10 MAY 2007
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
guidance, scholarly advice and unfailing courtesy. I gratefully acknowledge the arduous
I must thank all those who spent their “labour and leisure” for materializing this
work. Above all I thank God for his grace that inspired and strengthened me all through
the programme.
10 MAY 2007
THREE GOLDEN DROPS OF OV VIJAYAN
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION 06-11
PRAYER 12-17
CONCLUTION 35
INTRODUCTION
past. An extraordinary writer with enormous range, he wrote everything from a semi-
fictional history of his feudal-landlord family, 'Generations' to the scatological 'The Saga
man, his later works, Gurusagaram (The Eternity of Grace), Pravachakante Vazhi (The
While he lived outside Kerala for most of his adult life, spending time in
Delhi and in Hyderabad (where his wife Teresa was from), he never forgot his beloved
Palakkad, where the 'wind whistles through the passes and the clattering black palms'. He
created a magical Malabar in his works, one where the mundane and the inspired lived
O V Vijayan was unlucky not to win India's principal literary prize, the
Jnanpith, possibly because he did not endear himself to the political powers-that-be
through his trenchant cartoons. Vijayan's fans were also perennially hopeful that the
Nobel Prize would finally recognize him. In 2003, he was awarded the Padma Bhushan.
succumbed to organ failure in a Hyderabad hospital at age 75. His wife Dr. Teresa
Vijayan passed away a year after his death. Their son Madhu Vijayan lives in Los
Angeles, CA.
Novels
The first novel of Vijayan, appeared in 1969, took twelve years’ writing
and rewriting to reach its present form. It set off a great literary revolution and cleaved
the history of Malayalam fiction into pre Khasak and post Khasak. It appeared serialised
first and in book form later. The novel is about Ravi, a teacher in an informal education
centre in Khasak and his existential crises. The central character is a great visionary in
Astrophysics who completed his post graduate programme in Physics from the famous
college at Thambaram. The novel ends when Ravi provokes a snake to bite on his feet
and gradually begins his journey to some other realms of existence. the existential puzzle
of man as to why he should exist is throughly explored in this novel,it was a kind of
stepping stone to writer himself to that world.marked the arrival of a truly visionary
writer.
satire where the author knows no restraint in lampooning political establishments. The
language, the setting, and the characters are intended to create as great as possible
abhorrence towards the tools and means of governance.The central character is Sidhartha,
modeled after the illustrious predecessor of the same name, who lends a supernatural
enlightenment to those who are attracted by his enchanting personality. Beyond the
apparent level of political meaning the novel keeps in store spiritual and environmental
The third novel differs in language, vision and characterization from the
earlier works. It is on the immanence of Guru in the life of the seeker. Guru is
everywhere and is manifested in everybody. The seeker partakes of the grace of the Guru
from Kerala, working in Delhi, going on an assignment to report the Indo-Pak war of
This novel has been termed as "a fantastic allegory fusing mythology,
This novel emphasizes the vision that intuition is perennial and it is one
and the same always. This oneness of the revelation makes the ways of all prophets the
same. This great education in spirituality is got in those barbarous days of Delhi when the
Sikhs were maniacally hunted after and mercilessly butchered following the murder of
Indira Gandhi.
is historic to a still greater extent. Beyond autobiography and history, the novel is a
oneself and his clan.This search is of great importance when the collective experiences of
the subculture are very bitter and the individual sense of the clan identity is very superior.
Review
Other Creations
He has written many volumes of Short Stories, the first volume of which
was published in 1957 - Three Wars. He has also written many essays, and also published
one book of cartoons- Ithiri neramboke, Ithiri Darshanam (A Little Pastime, A little
Vision)- 1990.
other stories' which contains several jewel-like masterpieces, in particular the title story
about a poor, semi-literate peasant going to the jail to receive the body of his son who has
been hanged; 'The Wart' and 'The Foetus' about the trauma of the fascist Emergency; the
works from Malayalam to English. His Selected Works has been published as an omnibus
I hereby try to translate three short stories from two different collections,
Kadaltheerath and Kattuparja Katha. The three deals three types of death or loss in life
and its consequences. The first thing which I want to say is that my vocabulary and
language are not sufficient to translate such a great man’s work. The works are most
valuable and pioneers in all ways, in style, theme, language etc. So my translation has its
own deficiencies. It would become only trying of translating a work. My selected works
Kattuparanja Katha and On the Beach (Kadaltheerath) from the collection called
Kadaltheerath.
literature. The Malayalam diction, idioms etc in the stories make a lot of problem to me.
I couldn’t re encode it satisfactorily. Some words which is a part of kerala culture and
very difficult task. If we couldn’t translate it properly, the readers of reciepient language
couldn’t understand it properly. I hereby done the formal translation. The sentence
structure in Malayalam is also entirely different from English. The subject is not used in
most of the Malayalam sentences and the word order is also different. In English for the
verbs. So these different structures also made some difficulties. Really it is my first
attempt and I don’t know how effective is my translation task. However I present this to
When I was an infant my elder brother died. After that mother wasn’t
Mother’s eye followed me always. Wherever I went, it would come with me.
There was a big garden around our house. Old trees with seeds and shrubs. Behind the
plot there was a pond. I wished to wander in the garden, to pluck the bunches of fruits in
the flowering plants, to hunt small red bees, catch and put them in the match box and
to listen to the whisper among the trees etc; but mother’s prohibition didn’t allow me to
do anything. In her list, the most prohibited place is the pond in the back side. And to
reach there became a dream, a thrust for a magical feeling to me. Days passed away; it
remained as a unfulfilled dream. Exercise in the yard, textbooks in the house and the
In the evening, when I was sitting for praying, I couldn’t concentrate on it.
When I was sitting to eat, I thought of fruit bunches. When I went to sleep, the bees,
going and coming. And she would tell the master: “He is very absentminded. Please
have an eye on him”. It meant that my mind did not stay anywhere, might be slipped, or
went in a wrong way. Master always laughed when he heard this. Mothers of other
students never raised complaints. They were praying and for the growth and security of
their children and led a happy life. But my brother’s death became a bone of contention
It was because there was anything in my mind that it was listening. When I walked, I
listened to the sand, when I breathed, I listened to the sky. When the teacher taught me, I
“Yes”
And the problem in arithmetics became more difficult; both to madhavi and
me.
“No”
“To catch the baby frog, the baby frog with an unbroken tail”
My heart beat. There was no doubt to me that the pond behind the house
might be full of baby frogs, fleshy tale, rainbow colour on the body, the eyes which didn’t
“How is it?”
“Drown the cage after placing coconut piece in it, the baby frog will enter into
it”
“Will you give me the cage?”
“Tomorrow”
“Stand up”
Madhavi and I stood up silently. We got beaten for doing the problem
Beating did not affect me much. But calling me a person who doesn’t listen!.
When I spoke to Madhavi about the cage, my mind was full of concentration. About
pieces of coconut, small sticks in the basket, the movement of the caught baby frog.
Madhavi kept her word. The next day, she bought the cage, a cage which could cover two
oranges.
She learnt the thing from her elder brother. I felt no doubt about the
After I reached home, I hid the cage. The next day was a Friday, after the
Friday, Saturday and Sunday were holidays. I was waiting eagerly for the coming of
sometime. I was sure that, without the piece of coconut, the frog wouldn’t enter into
basket. It was Madhavikutti’s logic. At last I repeated the request “a small piece, mother”
After collecting it, I entered into the room. Then I understood the problematic
nature of the thing. How to go to the pond? The pond was in the prohibited magical
forest. It might be because of the will power of my mind; mother told a thing
unexpectedly “I am goingfor my siesta noon sleep. Balaraman you sit in the thinna and
Mother went to Akayi’ and lay. I sat in the thinna with my text book. But
couldn’t sit patiently. After some time I stood and looked at ‘akayi’. Mother was in sound
sleep. Like a thief, slowly I picked up the Madhavi’s cage from my bag. I placed the
coconut piece in the cage and stood a while in a suspicious mood. To catch frog, I have
to go today itself. Sometimes, mother wouldn’t sleep next Saturday, wouldn’t give
coconut piece for the fear of germs. After taking a decision, I stepped into the plot. The
great wonder of noon heat and vapour, the sky above the branches of the jackfruit tree
and the mango tree, clouds like boats. I reached the pond with an dreadful mind. The
frog, who was sitting in the border of clay of the pond jumped into water. I couldn’t see
the baby frogs without unbroken tails. I thought I drowned the cage into the water.
Madhavi never became wrong. I drowned the cage into the water, stepping in the clay on
the border. The next moment, I slipped into the pond and missed the cage. The cage was
drowned in water.
I cried for many hours, standing in the shore. In a deep disappointment, when
I started to go back, I saw something hiding in the clay, just like a sculpture carved in the
wood. My cry was over and instead of it I felt wonder. I sat there and looked closely.
Melting the wonder shapes, a thing which was known only to a child. I understood
clearly, what was it, only after searching for a long time. Now I saw the small face,
plated eyes and the froked tongue. I understood it was a snake. I didn’t see the snakes
directly but it was familiar with it have seen in the picture. The snake and I sat face to
face eagerly. Without any reason, I understood that the snake liked my proximity. As a
sign of it, the snake performed a beautiful dance with expanded hood. I forgot all about
my violation of mother’s prohibition and the loss of the cage. My heart was filled with
only one thought: I wanted to wake up mother and point out the snake to her. I ran to the
house. Ran a while. When I looked back, I found that the snake also followed me. I
stopped, the snake also stopped. I had no suspicion in the matter that he came with me to
play. I laughed in great pleasure. As a reply to my laugh, he moved his tongue. Again I
Mother came out to the thinna in a sleepy mood and when she saw the snake,
she screamed. Then she held me and got in to the room and closed the door. Then she
called out the workers who were working far away from the plot.
with me to play, but I could understand the sticks and the cruel faces of the Velayudhan
and Kuttikrishnan. It was the sign of starting a serious problem. I did what was done by a
child only; I withdrew to my inside from the surroundings. Sat like that, I filled the snake
with my love. Wonder animal, I spoke silently, may you be not pained. I winked my eyes
what happened to the snake. But only remember, love the snake. The love became a
prayer through its secret movements. That house, where the prayer lay dry, there were
I didn’t know that I prayed for a motherless baby serpent, who was in the
The neighbours in Ammini’s house and Muthuravuthan’s house became listeners and
were sad. And about fifty children around these houses also filled with sadness and
sympathy. Vellayiappan was going to Kannur. If there was money to pay for the train
Kombipooshari etc, would would have gone Kannur. The journey to Kannur was mainly
for Pazhuvathara’s people. Vellayiappan passed through the compound and house
inhabitanted by owners and tenants and entered into the long field path. The cry became
low and ended behind him. Now he left the field path and entered the plot. Through the
yellow grass of the plot, the footpath continued as a mark of stripe of someone’s
sorrowful journey
The wind caught the Palmyara tree which stood alongside the footpath.
Vellayiappan feels the movement of wind on leaves of Palmayara as strange for the first
time. As if the Palmyara leaves were speaking. Like the Gods and ancestors speaking
through the Palmyara leaves. The hand is wet with the wetness of packed meals, which
was tied in the loin cloth. When his Kodachi tied this meal, she might have shed a lot of
tears in it. The moisture of the tears spread through the knot on the loin cloth.
For reaching the Railway Station, he had to walk four furlongs more. After
walking a while, he met Kuttusan mappila coming from the opposite side. Kuttusan
That’s all. Two words, names, but, they knew the long and rich sequences
anas”
“The unpayable debts are the deposits in God’s treasure. Let them remain as
such”.
“May God help you, Muthunabhi may help you,your and my god may help
you”
Neeli, who came with a bag of washed clothes on her shoulder, stood aside
Vellayiappan walked.
The footpath joined a narrow road. Vellayiappan walked through the road.
The road stepped into the river. If you climbed the hillock after crossing the river, that
would be the path to the Railway Station. Vellayiappan stepped into river. Embracing
the feet and carrying the small river fish, the river flowed. When he reached the middle of
the river, the feeling of a bath dawned on him and it grieved him. He remembered having
bathed the dead body of his fatherand having bathed his son in his childhood days in a
pond. He also remembered like warm water. He wept till he climbed the hillock after
Vellayiappan reached the Railway station stood in the queue for taking a
ticket. He put out the money from the corner of his dress.
“Kannur” Vellayiappan said. When the clerk sealed the ticket and gave it to
him through the window, he felt that he had crossed a part of the journey. Tied the ticket
in the corner of his dress and he reached the platform. After climbing the steps , he was
waiting for the train, sitting in a bench. The sun drooped far away. The birds flying on
the top of the darken Palmyara trees had reached the nests. He remembered his son who
wondered when he saw the setting birds, catching his little finger, in the field path of the
Mundakan field. He also remembered his father who walked through the field alone
Two pictures. Between that, like between two names, like between two words,
the prosperity of anything. An old man, who was seated in the remaining part of bench
asked.
“To Coimbatore?”
“O”
“Nothing specially”
hangman’s rope. If he crosses the chief path of Pazhuthat, every body is a stranger to
him. The uninterested conversation of strangers became numberless tightening his neck.
Because the train to Coimbatore came earlier, the old man seated beside him in the
bench went away. Vellayiappan became alone. Couldn’t have the mind to open the
packed meal. Vellayiappan sat touching the wetness which came out in the loinclioth.
Like that he slept. Dreamt in the sleep. Vellayiappan said in the dream, “O Kadunni
son”. The trembling and hissing of the train wakened Vellayiappan. He stood up with a
flutter. He checked whether ticket was there in the corner of his dress and made sure of it.
“Is it?”
“Next box”
“It is reserved”
“Is it?”
he could hold something and stand . I will stand. I haven’t had sleep. My son would not
sleep that night. The rhythm of train, the changing rhythm based on changing existence,
the street lights, the sanded river banks, trees. Earlier, he had once travelled in the train,
in the light of day. This is night train. The train was through a tunnel which have on
When he reached Kannur, the sun feeling had not risen. The unopened packed
meal remained in the hand. Vellayiappan went out risen after surrendering the ticket at the
gate. Far away, there was some sign of the blossoming dawn in the darkness of sky. The
“which is the way to prison”? some one laughed “Here is an old man asing for the way to
jail early in the morning!”. Another person also laughed: “Uncle! Steal something and
then you can easily go to jail. Vellayiappan felt suffocated. Again the talk of the strangers
strangled him.
At last someone showed the way. Vellayiappan walked. The sky became
helplessness of a child. Then slowly untied the corner of garment, took a yellow paper.
“Who asked you to come this morning ?”the guard asked roughly.
By the influence of some habit, the guard looked at the paper. His face
know”
“O”
“No”
My son would haven’t slept this night. He didn’t wake up without sleep.
Didn’t sleep, didn’t wake up, How would he have the mind to drink the tea?
Vellayiappan’s palm was pressed on the packed meal. This meal was packed by your
mother for me. I took it here without eating in the journey. It is the only thing, which I
have to give you. The food which was packed in the loin cloth, is fermented. The time
The office opened. The people occupied the places behind the tables. The
guard marched. The prison became crowded. The superior officer checked the paper.
They ordered. The strange sounds of orders. Traps without hatred and derision. They
One of the guards bought him, inside of prison. The corridor which didn’t
“Here it is”
strangely. The cells of mind which could neither give nor receive solace. The guard
opened the door. Vellayiappan entered in the prison. Son and father stood face to face for
a while. Then Vellayiappan embraced his son. Kandunni cried in a sound which was
unheard.
Kandunni replied “father”. Only two words. In between these two words, in
“I have no memory”
“Don’t worry son, you don’t remember any thing”
“No son”
Vellayiappan came out, the iron door closed behind him. The strange
Kandunni stood, looked out through the iron bars as as if he were looking out from
the compartment of a moving train. Vellayiappan walked away with the look of the
last devoted prayer. He lied down and waited here and there in the surroundings of
the prison. The sun came to the head. Time became low. Does Kandunni sleep this
night? The night was passing away.Kandunni lived inside the wall.
Vellayiappan heard the resounding of horn, before the dawn. He didn’t know
that, it was a custom during the execution of death sentence. They said that it was at
5 am in the morning. Vellayiappan knew the time, without the watch; He had an
inborn sense of a farmer. Vellayiappan received the dead body of his son as a
midwife.
in the top of the open places outside. Vellayiappan saw the face of Kandunni before it
was covered with soil. He placed his palm on the forehead and blessed his son.
Wandering in the heat, Vellayiappan reached the beach. He saw the sea for the first
time. Something was there in the palm, wet and dripping. It was the meal which was
packed and given by Kodachi. Vellayiappan opened the packet. He threw the food to
the ground. The crows came to peck the food from the upper reaches of the blazing
son.
An Offering of Love
The matra and thesound of the bell which coming from the temple far away,
after the evening prayer reached the nalukettu and remained in the darkness and cobwebs,
as a smell of sand.
“How long! I forget the length of the period during which mother treated me
Revathi suffered from the disease of untimely old age, which come to
children. There was no treatment for it. In her tenth year, she became old, with wrinkled
skin and white hair. Couldn’t play with other children, when Revathi alone sat under the
“How is my child?”
She looked at mother through old tired eyes and became silent. Mother placed
without showing her tears to the daughter. The angered father was in ‘thalam’. She
asked her husband “Don’t you go to the daughter? Don’t you console her?”
His reply was a severe silence. The dangerous anger of sorrow. She accepted
it kindly.
How many nights the vaidya and the astrologer were doing astrological
“There is a solution in Ashtangahrdya” vaidya said. But that is not known for
After vaidya, astrologer. Astrologer levelling the cowdy again and again
meditated. Sleep comes to the lamp which was placed in front of it.
Revathi tried to overhear, standing behind the door. Mother saw that and said,
“go and lie down my child. Otherwise headache will become severe”
Revathi slowly walked to the bed. Mother raised her question again after
“Say”
there anyone who could see the starting and end of Karma, sir? The sediments and
This taravad has the wieght of so many sins. The deficiency of love. “
The wick in the platter withdrew to the platter and extinguished. Revathi slept
inside.
The fumes of homa hasn’t ended; the father’s dead body was hanging on the
Jack fruit tree in the plot. Mother didn’t cry. She wept silently, suppressing deep sorrow,
Now mother’s weeping became a cry. She passed so many nights in the
nalukettu through her deep cry. Next two years, mother alone treated her daughter. At
the end of it, she died because of loss of immunization power of the body. When she
burned , mother said, “My child don’t go away from this Taravadu. Sometimes you
The invisible Revathi was waiting in sorrowful patience. Her days passed,
sleeping in the Machakam. At night she sat under the elanji and received the moonlight
and winter. When burned in the taravadu, Revathi said, “Ha! Mother has come! I feel
happy”
Mother sorrowfully looked at Revathi’s wrinkled skin and leaned hair. Patted
Your disease has gone. What is there in your body is only its memory. My
Every day mother unctioned her daughter with the smell of Tulasi. How many
years! During all those years, Revathi wished to see her father.
“Yes but he shouldn’t have sinned. Father slipped into the darkness of duty.”
Mother looked at the thorny forest of rebirth, far away, and said “daughter’s
The flight from Kuala Lumpur was circling atop the Madras airport.
“Why do you look so bad?” Kumaramenon asked the twelve years old
She didn’t reply. Looking at the runway lamps, she became sleepy.
Flight moves to the runway, slowly and now became motionless. When the
door opened, the morning wind of Dravidian earth pushed into the flight.
“ At Taj Cormondal”
“Kusumam want only Malasia”. Kumaramenon said to his wife Susheela with
a smile.
ancient and of epic dimensions, daughter; we will go to Thiruvillamala after stay here for
some days. Then, I will show you beautiful Dravidian sculptures, Mahabalipuram
Kancheepuram, Madhura.
Kumaramenon continued. The Aryans didn’t give any offering to the eected Dravidians.
They don’t love their fathers. Without knowing love, defeated in an unjust war they gave
Arthaveda to Aryans, the proto-dravidians escaped to the south from Mohanjodaro and
Harappa”
With a naughty smile, Kusumam said “like it is, with his family,
“Woman” Kumaramenon said “If you see that place, you will fall in love with
it”
Kumaramenon decided to buy the nalukettu, when he was visited India last
year. He remembered about the nalukettu at the time, when he was searching for a plot to
build a house. His childhood memories returned. The garden was full of Elanji, Mavu,
“yes I know”. So I enquired about it. Who are living there now Raghavetta?”
“ghosts”
twenty years ago, the only child of that house died because of a strange disease. Father
hanged himself, not to see the pathetic stage of his daughter. After the death of the
daughter, mother also died, without getting one drop of water, lying alone in that
nalukettu. It remained as a forest for about fifteen years. After that, one Kuttan Nair
came and lived there, he had some kind of right there. Is it not a cursed place? Can we
escape from it? Kuttan Nair was financially mentally and physically destroyed.
Is he not the man who tried to cheat ghosts? He is far away, in the other
world. When caught by ghosts, he escaped to Thiruchirappally. Kuttan Nair and his wife
died there. Their son was working as a clerk in a company there. Legally the asset
belonged to him. But actually not an asset, but a liability. He has no comage to enter into
the picture which has a green shade is that of Revathi, a girl who couldn’t play with other
children had to hide in the garden, depressed and lonely, received the woes of old age of
Ghosts which could not get into any place The Shraddha is not over. They
“The modern mind cannot believe ghost? Cannot touch the ghost, while living
heritage.
Kumaramenon took his children’s different point of view seriously and said
“Both are good. Kusumam will study Dhanwanthari’s and Shushrutha’s texts from
Ashtavaidyas after returning from England. Unni can continue his higher studies in an
American agricultural university, after studying the agricultural techniques from his
native place. Both of you can study Malayalam from a language instructor of Vellinezhi.”
and family drove to Thiruvillwamala. When the car ran through the red soil of Dravidian
earth, father said to daughter “you keep the sight of Meenakshi always in your mind.
Kusumam didn’t reply. She looked like, she suffused with the fortune of that sight,
which was opposite to her habits. Kumaramenon continued, “Meenakshi is Shiva’s
3
The way which led to the Nalukettu was cleared as a car could enter. When
the car enters, the time became noon. Mother and daughter woke up, knowing the sound
of machine.
“Severe fear”
4
Kusumam, do you like the house? Kumaramenon asked.
“How many types of plants are here?” unni said. “see father, butterflies”
Kumarmenon and family got down from the car and moved to the steps.
“It is difficult to believe that there are ghosts here” Susheela said. “what a
beautiful house! What would happen if there are ghosts?. Where is the continuity of
Drinking boiled milk, they came and sat oin the thalam. It was evening.
“See we have come back” Kumaramenon said. “it is my taravad. We are the
only remaining relatives”. Kuttan Nair’s family also belonged to this family.” “Didn’t
It became darker.
“Come” Kumaramenon invited his wife and children to the yard. Pour water
“Listen daughter”. Kumaramenon said. “ the invisible people who lived here
feel hunger and thirst. There was no one to enquire about them. Father is going to do a
bewildered. Now the sun set and it became pitch dark. It was the time to wake up the
“theertham samarpayami”. Then the submission of food and dress. Revathi and mother
watched it while standing on the steps. “Mother, Revathi said “See a twelve years old
“No”
Kusumam, who was standing in wonder in front of the Tulasithara, felt that a
chilled hand touched her shoulder slightly and then as if it patted her cheeks. As if an
invisible girl was calling her for play. Kusumam was filled with kindness. The waves of
Her eyes were filled with tears. Unni and Susheela witnessed Kusumam’s
“We will give you love and respect. Our tradition may catch the virtue in your
kindness.
His experience of loneliness, strange relationships etc are depicted in this. It write in the
style of memory and in the language of a child. An offering of love is a story which
narrates returning of a family to native place and archaic beliefs and life. The story of
their arriving is depicted through a parallel story of a innocent girl, who became a victim
of premature oldness and the pathetic fall of her family. On the Beach is a story about a
poor, semi-literate peasant going to the jail to receive the body of his son who has been
hanged. All the three stories established the divine creativity of the author.